


Christmas Eve Will Find Us

by bookwormforalways



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: 5 + 1 Fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormforalways/pseuds/bookwormforalways
Summary: Christmas Eve will find them… where the hospital lights gleam.It's supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year - not the most accidental. Follow Clarke and Bellamy through a series of Christmas Eve misadventures, where they’re reminded that Christmas is more than presents and perfectly decorated cookies. No, what truly matters is who’s beside you and holds your hand when things don’t go to plan, like spending Christmas Eve at the hospital.OR 5 times Bellamy and Clarke spend Christmas Eve in the Emergency Room, and the 1 time they don't.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 37
Kudos: 170
Collections: bellarkescord advent calendar





	Christmas Eve Will Find Us

**Author's Note:**

> Aka, bellarke are disasters at Christmas. I had lots of little Christmas-themed ideas for this fic challenge, and decided to string them all together for a 5 + 1 fic. Hope you enjoy the story (even though it’s insanely fluffy, and sweeter than a Christmas cookie with extra icing and sprinkles) !
> 
>   
> Written as part of the bellarkes discord advent calendar event!  
> Title inspired by lyrics from “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”
> 
> Content warnings: mentions of broken bones, blood, stitches, and allergic reactions. 

****

**Year 1**

**December 24, 2015, 6:27pm - Arkadia Memorial Hospital, Waiting Room**

**Patient: Clarke Griffin**

**Cause of Visit: Fractured Wrist**

Clarke knew she should never have let Wells convince her to go skating with him at the frozen pond. That was her first mistake. Agreeing to play goalie during a pick-up hockey game was mistake number two. Wells’ logic had been that she wouldn’t have to do anything other than staying upright on her skates in front of the net. Unfortunately, when the girl on the other team hit the puck powerfully from the middle of the ice, Clarke ducked to avoid being hit, and her feet slipped out from under her, and she’d tried to catch herself mid-fall. 

And that’s exactly how Clarke found herself sitting in the hospital’s emergency room, waiting for her broken arm to be x-rayed on Christmas Eve. 

Just as the doctor appeared, beckoning Clarke to come for an x-ray, the reception nurse led a man to the waiting room. He was around Clarke’s age, and undeniably attractive as he tenderly cradled his right arm to his chest. 

“Another broken arm?” the doctor asked, an odd mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face. 

The nurse cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms, clearly exhausted from her day. “Of course, it’s a holiday. People are stupid and have accidents, and then expect us to fix it all up for them.”

Clarke caught the eye of the stranger, and raised her eyebrows, sharing a sympathetic glance before following the doctor to the x-ray room. 

An hour later, Clarke’s arm was carefully wrapped in a green cast and she was waiting on Wells to pick her up. Filling out some last minute insurance information for the nurse, which had her feeling grateful that she’d broken her right wrist and not her left, she felt someone sit in the chair next to her. 

It was the man from before, the ridiculously hot stranger who had also broken his arm on Christmas Eve. 

“Green. Nice choice, we’re a festive pair,” he said, with a charming smile. He held up his matching cast against hers, only his was coloured red. 

Clarke raised her eyebrow. “What if I’m not in the holiday spirit? What if I just really like the colour green? Or I’m a Slytherin?”

The man chuckled, using his uninjured hand to scrub at the stubble along his jawline. “Well, then I’d say I’m a Gryffindor, and ask for your number anyway.”

She laughed at his boldness. “Smooth,” she said, turning back to her paperwork. While she was single, meeting someone who was accident prone in the hospital waiting room wasn’t exactly the ideal meet cute. But then again, he was unfairly attractive, which helped in his favour. 

“So, how’d it happen?” he asked, nodding at her cast. 

Grimacing, she admitted, “My friend asked me to play hockey. And it didn’t end well.”

“Clearly,” he grinned. His warm smile was infectious, and made her blush. Maybe she would give him her number after all. 

“How about you?” she asked, tapping her pen on the clipboard to the rhythm of the overly cheery Christmas music playing through the speakers in the waiting area. 

His free hand ruffled through his hair, messing up his dark curly hair. “Ahh, I was tobogganing with friends. Made it down to the bottom of the hill and my friend crashed into me. Knocked me off my feet and landed hard. And yeah, broken arm on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas to us, hey?”

Clarke glanced over at the nurse sitting in the reception area, who looked even more unhappy than before. “I hate that she was right about both of us. That we’re both victims of stupid holiday accidents.” 

His responding laugh was loud and unexpected, catching the attention of the very same nurse who shot a disgruntled glare in their direction. 

They both burst into a fit of giggles as they tried to look away. 

“Maybe we should ask her to sign our festive holiday casts, and inspire some Christmas cheer?” he whispered dramatically. 

Clarke hit his shoulder with her free hand. “No, she’d murder us, for sure.”

“She’d be tempted to, for sure. If only that pesky hippocratic oath wasn’t standing in her way,” he murmured. 

_Shit_ , Clarke thought to herself. He was hot _and_ funny. And he wanted her number. 

“Hey, Griff. Are you ready to go?” A familiar voice called from the doorway. Clarke looked up and saw Wells walking over, bundled in his winter coat and holding his car keys. 

“Yeah, just a minute,” she answered her friend. “Can you hand this over to the nurse for me?” Clarke passed Wells the clipboard with her completed insurance form, and then stood, gathering her coat and scarf in her arms. 

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” the man said, still seated, and crossed his legs, his ankle resting over his knee. 

Clarke smirked down at him, “For now.” Sitting back down, her knee pressed against his as she motioned for him to hold his cast out to her. 

He hesitated for one second, but then let her pull his red cast onto her lap. With her pen, she began to scratch letters in black ink. 

“My name’s Bellamy, by the way,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. 

Clarke finished scrawling her name and number with her pen, and stood back up. “Merry Christmas, Bellamy. Text me.”

Turning around to walk toward Wells, she heard Bellamy call out behind her. “Merry Christmas, Clarke!”

Glancing over her shoulder at him once more, she smiled widely before leaving the hospital with Wells. 

Maybe agreeing to go skating with Wells on Christmas Eve wasn’t the worst mistake after all. 

* * *

**Year 2**

**December 24, 2016, 10:48am - Arkadia Memorial Hospital, Examination Room**

**Patient: Bellamy Blake**

**Cause of Visit: Head Laceration, Possible Concussion**

“I told you not to make jokes,” Bellamy said, trying to smile, but wincing slightly as the nurse dabbed his forehead with disinfectant.

“I said I was sorry,” Clarke groaned, leaning against the wall of the small examination room, as she ran the events from earlier that morning through her mind. 

An hour ago, they were at Bellamy’s apartment, and Clarke was trying to help him bake gingerbread cookies for the Christmas Eve dinner at her parent’s house. _Trying_ being the operative word. It had only been one year since they’d met and started dating, but Bellamy had quickly learned that Clarke was useless in the kitchen. 

“Hey, babe, can you pass me that bag of flour?” Bellamy said, pointing to the red bag on his counter, before returning his focus to measure out the correct amounts of cinnamon and nutmeg for the recipe. 

“Yeah, here you g- _ahh!_ ” she squealed, as the heavy bag slipped out of her fingers and fell to the floor. An explosion of white flour covered everything in sight - Clarke, the floor, the counters. Even the tiny Charlie Brown Christmas tree they had set up on his kitchen table now looked as if it wore a dusting of snow. The air seemed to glow white as the sunlight lit up the flour dust as it rained down. 

Bellamy stood there, absolutely frozen in shock as he took in the mess. 

Clarke’s cheeks burned red in embarrassment, as she surveyed the disastrous kitchen. Tears burned in her eyes. It would take _forever_ to clean this up. She knew Bellamy wouldn’t yell at her, or act mad at all - that wasn’t who her boyfriend was. But he wouldn’t be pleased either. 

And then Bellamy began to laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed through the entire apartment. A laugh that thoroughly surprised her. 

Clarke started laughing too. She tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes, but combined with the flour, it came away sticky and clumping on her fingers. _Gross_. 

“Wow, I can’t believe that just happened…” she whispered, her voice soft and reverent at the scene of the crime. 

Bellamy shook his head side to side in disbelief, and used his wrist to wipe flour dust away from his eyes. “Well, I guess we’re getting store-bought cookies now. Which is a shame, because they won’t have your level of artistic decoration.”

Clarke bit her lip, and nodded. She knew Bellamy wanted to impress her parents with home-made cookies, but now her parents would get a funny anecdote instead of home-made dessert. 

“Let me help you clean this up,” Clarke said, taking a step toward him. 

Her foot slipped on the flour-covered floor, sending her headfirst toward the counter - but strong hands caught her waist. Holding her steady, Bellamy tucked her closer to his body. 

“Careful, love,” he said softly, kissing her temple. 

Clarke chuckled, melting into his touch, knowing he would keep her upright. “That was a close one. Lucky I didn’t get hurt, or we might’ve had to spend another Christmas Eve in the ER.”

Laughing, Bellamy tapped her nose with his index finger, “Don’t even _joke_ about that.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, as he brushed a dusting of flour out of her hair. 

And not even twenty minutes later, they were en route back to the hospital. 

In his effort to clean up the flour disaster she’d created, Bellamy had slipped, his feet sliding out from under him and he fell forward. His head caught the edge of the counter, cutting open his forehead. 

Set in his stubborn ways, he tried to convince Clarke that it was not too bad. He could put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding and bandage it himself. But Clarke wouldn’t let him take that chance, especially if he was at risk of a concussion, and had insisted on driving him to the hospital. 

“It’s okay, Clarke. It’s not too bad,” Bellamy said, trying to make her feel better about it all. 

The nurse raised her eyebrows at Bellamy over her mask, as she placed a bandage over the stitches, her face lacking any ounce of sympathy. 

“Okay, it’s a little bad,” he winced once more, wringing his hands in his lap.

When Bellamy’s name had been called, they were both surprised to recognize the unhappy nurse from last Christmas beckoning him over. Of course it would be their luck that the miserable nurse would be treating Bellamy. 

She had sighed audibly when Bellamy had explained what happened, but refrained from adding her own commentary about holiday accidents this year. 

Once Bellamy’s head was stitched up and bandaged, they were sent on their way. 

“So, should we pick up gingerbread cookies or sugar cookies,” Bellamy asked, twining his fingers through Clarke’s as they exited the hospital. 

“Whichever ones don’t involve flour explosions, head lacerations, or trips to the ER,” Clarke teased back, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay, though?”

He smiled softly at her, “Yeah, I am. The cookies definitely didn’t go as I’d planned, but there’s always next year.”

Grinning, Clarke used her key fob to unlock the car and glanced up at him, “And next year, we definitely do not joke about the ER, okay?”

“Deal,” he answered, as tiny snowflakes began to fall from the sky, reminiscent of the flour incident from earlier. 

Smiling to herself, Clarke couldn’t help but feel relieved that Bellamy would be okay, even if they would have to make do with store-bought cookies instead. 

* * *

**Year 3**

**December 24, 2017, 8:14pm - Arkadia Memorial Hospital, Examination Room**

**Patient: Clarke Griffin**

**Cause of Visit: Allergic Reaction**

“All right, you should start to feel better after you take this,” the nurse said, passing Clarke two small pills. 

It was a different nurse this time. When Clarke and Bellamy walked up the Emergency Room reception counter, the same nurse from the past two years had been there again - wearing the same look of misery as the years before. She’d taken one look at Clarke and Bellamy, clearly recognizing them, and announced it was time for her break. 

Clarke managed to swallow the medicine despite her swollen and itchy tongue. Who knew that a night so magical and perfect would see her and Bellamy back in ER on Christmas Eve. 

Standing beside her, Bellamy tucked her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek softly with his thumb. Smiling up at him, Clarke tried to not think about how itchy she was all over. 

While Christmas Eve was the anniversary of the first time they met at the hospital, they never expected to return to the same hospital each year on that anniversary. Maybe bad things happened in threes, or maybe they were cursed. Cursed by the Grinch or Scrooge, perhaps. 

Luckily, it was never for anything truly serious - but it was inconveniencing to say the least. And they still sported scars from when they’d broken bones the first year, and on Bellamy’s forehead from his stitches last year. At least she wouldn’t earn a scar from this, a simple allergic reaction. 

“Stop staring, I’m okay,” she said softly, under Bellamy’s careful gaze. At least, that’s what she tried to say, and she hoped he could understand her even though her swollen mouth made it difficult to speak. 

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then gently kissed her temple. “Hey, I know you’ll be alright,” he whispered back, “but I’m allowed to worry about my fiancée, okay?” 

_Fiancée_. 

Breaking his gaze, Clarke glanced down at the shiny new ring adorning her fourth finger. She was taken aback by how much had changed in the last hour. An hour ago, she had been strolling through the local Christmas market, holding hands with her boyfriend, and sipping on peppermint mochas. They were celebrating the beauty of the Christmas season and the two year anniversary of the day they’d met. 

Sitting next to her in the sterile, white examination room, Bellamy played with the ends of her hair absently, as if he was subconsciously unable to let go of her. It was sweet, and just one of the thousands of reasons it had been so natural to say yes to his proposal. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she took a deep breath while she waited for the antihistamines to take effect and relieve her hives and swollen tongue. 

In the quiet, she replayed her memories from the night. She wanted to remember every detail before the drowsiness kicked in. To remember how the falling snow looked in the glow from the streetlights, and how safe and cherished she felt at Bellamy’s side, holding his hand. 

When they had walked by the enormous Christmas tree in the centre of the square, Bellamy had led her to the side, away from the crowds. With what she now realized was a nervous smile, he had kissed her quickly, before kneeling down. 

Her heart leapt in excitement, and she covered her mouth with her gloved hands in surprise. 

Pulling a ring from his pocket, he began to speak and his voice cracked with emotion. “Clarke Griffin, you are my entire world, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to know you and to be the one who loves you. I never thought I’d be thankful to have broken my arm on Christmas Eve, but it led me to you, so I’m eternally grateful for errant toboggans and your inability to play hockey.”

A shaky laugh escaped her lips at his words, but she let him continue.

“Every day, I grow to love you more. I’m so in love with you, babe. And I want to spend every Christmas with you, and the rest of our lives too-”

“Yes!” Clarke interrupted enthusiastically, answering the question before it was even asked. She bounced on her toes in excitement, trying to pull him up to his feet so she could kiss him and wrap her arms around him. 

“Love, you have to let me _ask_ the question first,” he chuckled, her favourite smirk on his face. 

Clarke giggled, but didn’t say anything else, letting him continue. 

“Clarke, will you,” he paused for dramatic effect, his eyes alight as he teased her, “marry me?”

Launching herself at him, Clarke wound her arms tightly around his neck, laughing with joy as she answered. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Bellamy’s strong arms banded around her, holding her against him and he kissed her hair. 

“Here,” he said, finally pulling away from their embrace to show her the ring. “What do you think?”

Clarke took off her glove, and Bellamy slid the sparkling ring onto her left hand. 

It was perfect. Bellamy was perfect. And Clarke was ecstatic. 

She couldn’t find the words to tell him how incandescently happy she was, so she kissed him instead, hoping that would convey her feelings. 

When they finally returned to reality, they were eager to explore the rest of the Christmas market. 

The owner of a nearby booth called out to them, waving them over. He had seen their proposal, and wanted to offer his congratulations to the happy couple by gifting them a free box of his gourmet chocolates. 

Bellamy and Clarke happily accepted the gift. They opened the box and each tried a chocolate, as the chocolatier looked on, awaiting their reactions. 

As Clarke chewed the gooey, rich chocolate, her brow furrowed. 

“Something wrong, babe?” Bellamy asked, concern on his face as he noticed the change in her demeanour. 

Swallowing the chocolate, Clarke asked the chocolatier, “What flavour was this one?” She pointed to the spot where she had taken the piece. 

“Oh, that one is exquisite,” he said, clapping his hands together, eager to speak about his creations. “It’s infused with a fruit medley, made with real mangoes, pineapples, and citrus.”

Clarke looked over at Bellamy, eyes wide in alarm - she was allergic to pineapples! Even the tiniest trace of the fruit made her skin break out in hives and her tongue swell. 

It was Christmas Eve, and all the nearby drug stores were already closed. In his panic to make sure Clarke would be okay, Bellamy insisted they go to the hospital’s urgent care. She had tried to convince him that she would be fine, having plenty of antihistamines at home, but when her tongue and throat began to swell and it became difficult to breathe, she stopped arguing and let him drive her to the hospital. 

It certainly wasn’t the night Bellamy had planned, but it was special all the same. Despite the circumstances, he was still here, by her side in the hospital examination room. And there truly was no one else she’d rather have by her side, and Clarke couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with Bellamy. And hopefully it wouldn’t involve any more Christmas Eves spent in the hospital. 

* * *

**Year 4**

**December 24, 2018, 1:36pm - Arkadia Memorial Hospital, Surgery Recovery Ward**

**Patient: Bellamy Blake**

**Cause of Visit: Emergency Appendectomy**

“Everything went well. You can go see him now,” the doctor said, greeting Clarke in the waiting room. “He’s coming off the anaesthesia now, and he’ll still be a little groggy for a little while.”

She followed the doctor down the hallway, eager to see that Bellamy was alright with her own eyes. And eager to leave behind the repetitive Christmas music playing in the waiting room. It may be Christmas Eve, but Clarke wasn’t feeling in the Christmas spirit, not after seeing Bellamy in so much pain. 

Her husband looked pale in the room lighting, and had an IV in his arm, still asleep from the surgery. 

Clarke thanked the doctor and sat down in the empty chair next to Bellamy’s bed. Clasping her hand in his, she finally relaxed when she ran her finger over the gold wedding band he wore. 

Slowly, his eyes began to open, blinking against the bright light. 

“Hey, Bell. I’m here. How are you feeling?” Clarke asked softly, stroking her thumb along the palm of his hand. 

His eyes darted down to look at her, confusion lining his face. “Bell?” he asked, his voice a crackling whisper. 

“Bellamy. That’s your name,” Clarke answered, a smile on her lips. His sister had shared stories of how loopy Bellamy had been after having his wisdom teeth taken out years before, and Clarke wondered if that was happening again.

“That’s a funny name,” he muttered, his eyelids fluttering heavily. 

“Maybe so, but I like it,” she answered, squeezing his hand. 

He nodded, closing his eyes again, seemingly content at her answer. 

A few moments later, a nurse popped into the room to check on Bellamy’s chart and IV. The slight noise jarred his attention and he opened his eyes, staring at Clarke. 

“Holy shit. You’re beautiful,” he gasped. His voice was full of awe as he asked, “Who are you?”

Using her free hand to tuck her blonde hair behind her ears, Clarke grinned. “It’s me, Clarke, your wife. We’re married, Bell.”

Bellamy’s jaw dropped in surprise, and then dropped his head back against the pillow. He closed his eyes and shook his head side to side. “No way, you’re too hot for me. This is a mean trick, pretty lady.”

Clarke giggled, “It’s real, Bell. We’re married. It’s not a trick at all. See?” She squeezed his hand and rubbed her thumb across his wedding ring again, making sure he could see her rings too.

“No way,” he said again in disbelief, rubbing his eyes. 

And then he laughed, a full-bodied chuckle that echoed throughout the room. It was contagious, and Clarke couldn’t help but laugh with him. 

Somehow, Bellamy caught his breath. “She’s _my_ _wife!_ Can you believe it? She’s so fucking hot!” he exclaimed to the nurse, gesturing to Clarke. 

The nurse smirked at him, “You’re a lucky one, Mr. Blake. Just be careful you don’t pull your stitches, alright?”

“Stitches?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked to Clarke for answers. 

“Bell, you just had emergency surgery to remove your appendix,” she explained, twining her fingers with his again. “Your memory’s a little foggy from the anesthetic they used. Everything went well, but you’ll need lots of time to recover, so you have to be really careful. And we’ll have to reschedule Christmas with your sister.” 

“Oh,” he nodded, processing her words. After a moment, his brow creased once more. “I’m sorry I ruined our Christmas. But I- I will remember things again, right?”

Clarke squeezed his hand once more. “You could never ruin Christmas for me, babe. Once your memory comes back, you’ll understand why. Octavia said this happened, you being a bit forgetful, the last time you had surgery too, so I’m not worried.”

Bellamy sighed, relaxing his head against the pillow and stared back at her with his beautiful brown eyes. “Phew, I’m glad my memory didn’t really disappear. I want to remember meeting you and marrying you, and everything in between.”

Clarke was stunned by the sweetness of his words. “You’re such a sap, Bell.” But she leaned up to kiss his cheek anyway. “Get some sleep, babe. I love you, and I’m staying right here.”

She watched his eyes flutter shut again, and his breathing slow as he fell into a restful sleep. Stroking the back of his hand, Clarke was reminded that it didn’t matter if it was Christmas Eve, or any other day of the year. All that mattered was that Bellamy was going to be okay, and she was here with him, holding his hand. That’s what they had promised each other only a few months ago anyway, that they’d stay together in sickness and in health, through the good times and bad. 

And spending a fourth consecutive Christmas Eve at the hospital definitely fell under the ‘bad’ category. Three years in a row was simply bad luck, but fours years straight couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe they really were cursed after all. 

* * *

**Year 5**

**December 24, 2019, 5:09pm - Arkadia Memorial Hospital, Examination Room**

**Patient: Clarke Griffin-Blake**

**Cause of Visit: Hand Laceration, Fainting Episode**

Clarke leaned against Bellamy’s strong shoulder and stared at the bandage on her hand. How on earth had they ended up at the hospital on Christmas Eve _again_? 

For the fifth year in a row, they were back in the Emergency Room on Christmas Eve. 

Octavia had joked about their curse, that’s why, she figured. 

Clarke and Bellamy had arrived at his sister’s place for dinner with their friends only a few hours earlier. But when Clarke had counted the spots at the dining room table, there were only eight spots set where there should be ten. 

When Bellamy asked Octavia why, she laughed it off. “I didn’t set a place for you two because I figured you’d end up at the hospital sooner or later. It’s your tradition, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like we purposefully hurt ourselves, O,” Bellamy had argued back, hands on his hips defensively. 

Octavia shrugged, “I know. If by some miracle you’re both still here in an hour, I’ll have Lincoln add the table leaf, alright?”

Groaning at his sister’s antics, Bellamy led Clarke to the kitchen, where they could finish making the salad and side dishes they had been tasked to bring. 

That’s where Clarke’s memory of the night faded - one minute she had been chopping carrots at the counter, laughing at her husband and sister-in-law, and the next she was here, at the hospital with Bellamy. 

As the doctor had stitched and bandaged the cut on her hand, Bellamy had filled in the blanks for her. 

Clarke had fainted in the kitchen, falling to the floor. And the knife she had been holding had cut her palm deeply. Bellamy had rushed her to the hospital. Apparently she had woken up on the car ride over, but she had no memory of that. 

Now, with her hand bandaged, she and Bellamy were waiting for her blood test results to come back. Clarke swore she had only fainted because she hadn’t eaten much that day, and probably should have had more water to drink. Plus the stress and exhaustion from her workload at the busiest time of year were definitely a key factor as well. But the doctor wanted a quick blood test, just to be sure it wasn’t anything more serious. 

Holding her close with an arm wrapped around her back, Bellamy kissed the top of her head. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that, love,” he whispered. 

She nodded, unable to actually promise anything after their streak of Christmas Eve bad luck. Goodness knows they were destined to visit these all too familiar hospital rooms each and every year on the night before Christmas. It was supposed to be the most magical time of the year, not the most _accidental_ time of year. 

Bellamy voiced the thoughts in her head, as if reading her mind. “I can’t believe we’re here on Christmas Eve _again_. It’s like we really are cursed or something. Remember that awful nurse from the first year, when we broke our arms? Maybe she was actually a witch and cursed us for laughing at her.”

Clarke shrugged, laughing softly, and then added, “I would’ve stayed in med school if I wanted to spend every Christmas Eve in the hospital. At least then I’d be paid overtime.”

Bellamy chuckled, and kissed her cheek. Pulling out his phone, they saw dozens of messages from their friends asking if Clarke was okay. And one from Octavia saying she was sorry she had joked about it. 

Finally the doctor returned to the small examination room where they were waiting. 

“Clarke, I’d like to talk to you about the results of your test. Would you like to talk alone?” he asked, nodding toward Bellamy. 

Clarke gripped her husband’s hand tightly. “No, I want him to stay. What’s wrong.”

The doctor sat down in the chair, and tapped on the tablet, opening Clarke’s file. “Nothing’s wrong, per say.”

She shared a worried look with Bellamy before turning her attention back to the doctor. 

“It wasn’t only dehydration or low blood sugar that caused the fainting spell, Clarke. You’re pregnant.”

The word echoed in the silent room. Clarke felt her heartbeat quicken, the pounding growing louder and louder as her pulse raced. She was shocked. Her anxiety began to bloom with the fear of the unknown, sending her thoughts racing. 

Until Bellamy’s voice grounded her, returning her to the moment. 

“We’re pregnant?” he asked timidly, looking to the doctor for confirmation. “You’re sure?”

The doctor nodded, “Positive.”

And all of Clarke’s initial worries and anxieties melted away when she saw the smile radiate across Bellamy’s face. His joy was unbridled, as giddy laughter spilled from his lips. 

She grinned back at him, his reaction contagious. Bellamy pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a tight hug, spinning her in a small circle in the tiny office. 

“Congratulations, you two,” the doctor said, with a wry grin on his face as he stood. 

But they paid no attention to the man in the white coat. 

Bellamy cradled her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly. “We’re having a baby, love,” he whispered, his smile jubilant. 

Giggling, Clarke nodded in agreement. “We’re having a baby,” she repeated, her excitement growing as her hand instinctively moved to her belly, even though there was no bump visible yet. 

Bellamy’s hand overlapped hers, resting on her abdomen.

“Clarke,” the doctor said again, halfway out the door. “You’re free to leave, but make sure you take care of yourself now. You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“I will,” she promised, wishing the doctor a merry Christmas as Bellamy gathered their coats. 

Clake and Bellamy left the hospital hand in hand and wearing matching smiles. It wasn’t even Christmas and they’d already received the best present they could imagine, the news that they were going to be parents. 

Next Christmas, there would be three stockings to hang up on the mantle. 

* * *

**\+ 1**

**Year 6**

**December 24, 2020, 6:47am - The Griffin-Blake Household**

Clarke woke up on Christmas Eve to the soft sounds of Bellamy’s whispering voice and quiet humming in the next room. She got out of bed, wrapped her fluffy red robe around her shoulders and padded down the hall to join him. 

Sitting in the rocking chair of their nursery, Bellamy held their son close to his chest, humming a Christmas song. He was a natural at fatherhood, and Clarke loved seeing her husband with a baby in his arms. So much so, that she was already considering adding another stocking to their mantle next Christmas. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bellamy said quietly, rubbing Gus’ back. “Someone’s hungry, and excited to see Mom.” 

Grinning, Clarke stepped across the room to kiss her son’s head and her husband’s cheek too. 

A happy burbling sound came from the crib on the other side of the room, catching their attention. Passing baby Gus to Clarke, Bellamy crossed the room to retrieve their daughter, Cassie, from her crib. 

When they had found out they were expecting a baby last Christmas, Clarke and Bellamy had counted on needing to buy one _‘Baby’s First Christmas’_ ornament for their tree, not two. But when they found out they were expecting twins, they were overjoyed. And with the arrival of their twins, Augustus and Cassandra, and their lives were forever changed. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, my princess,” Bellamy cooed at the tiny girl, cradling Cassie against his chest. 

Both babies were dressed in festive red and green sleepers that Bellamy had picked out the night before, ready to celebrate the special holiday. 

As Clarke fed Gus, Bellamy held Cassie with one hand, and pulled out his phone with the other. 

“Alright, now ‘Operation No Blakes in the ER’ is officially in effect,” he said, his voice quiet but commanding as he squinted through his glasses. 

Clarke laughed at her husband, while he read the plan off of his phone. She had wondered what he had been typing on his notes app for the last few weeks, and now she finally had her answer. 

“Don’t laugh babe, we’ve got to stay ahead of the curse this year. I’m not letting this curse become multi-generational,” he replied, rocking back and forth on his slippered feet. He paused to kiss Cassie’s head as their daughter latched onto the collar of his shirt with her tiny fist. 

“Fine, what’s the plan, babe?” Clarke asked, adjusting Gus in her arms so that she could trace her son’s arm and his impossibly soft skin. 

“Alright, clearly winter sports are out of the question, so no hockey or tobogganing for us. And I’ve already made sure that all our knives and sharp objects are safely away and out of reach behind locked cupboards. All of our food is already prepared and ready to be heated up. And there’s no pineapple or citrus fruits on this property, but I’ve stocked up on antihistamines just in case.”

Raising her eyebrows at Bellamy, Clarke couldn’t help but smile at the lengths this man was willing to go to keep his family safe. And she was whole-heartedly grateful. If anything happened to her precious children, she’d never forgive herself. 

“Plus, O and Lincoln are coming here for dinner, so we don’t have to drive anywhere or leave the house at all,” Bellamy added, leaning down to kiss Cassie’s cheek again. 

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Clarke asked, looking up at her husband fondly through her eyelashes. 

With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “You’re just lucky you didn’t wake up covered in bubble wrap, my dear.”

“Wouldn’t that be a suffocation hazard?” she retorted, grinning. 

Bellamy shushed her, waving away her concern as Clarke laughed.

\---

True to his word, Bellamy hadn’t let the twins out of his sight all day. As a family of four, they spent the day in the living room, in front of the cozy electric fireplace and the twinkling tree. They lounged in their Christmas pyjamas while watching their favourite holiday movies, soaking in the magic of the day. 

Clarke’s mom came by for a visit with hot chocolate and donuts, and FaceTimed with Wells who was visiting his new girlfriend’s family across the country. 

But at the back of her mind, worry lingered. Accidents happened all the time, and while heaps of preparation could prevent them, sometimes the unexpected still occurred. 

By the time the sun set and everything was aglow with twinkly Christmas lights, Clarke felt herself starting to relax. She didn’t want to jinx the curse, but maybe all of Bellamy’s precautions had actually paid off. Because all she wanted for Christmas was for her family to be safe and happy, and of course, to avoid the hospital ER for once. 

Gus was asleep on the couch next to Bellamy, and Clarke was feeding Cassie when Bellamy’s phone rang. 

“O?” he answered curiously, turning on the speaker so Clarke could hear too.

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia began, hesitantly. “Slight change of plans.” Something about her voice sounded off, but Clarke couldn’t place why. 

“Uh-oh, what happened?” Bellamy asked, sitting up quickly, and then looking to his side to make sure Gus was still asleep. 

Clarke shared a worried glance with her husband as Octavia’s voice carried through the phone. 

“So, don’t freak out, but we won’t be making it over for dinner,” his sister began. “Actually, Linc’s driving me to the hospital right now.”

Bellamy swore under his breath, and ran a hand through his curls. “O, what happened? Are you okay?”

“I dislocated my shoulder. We were fixing some of the Christmas lights on the porch, and my leg got tangled in the string of lights, and I fell off the ladder and landed wrong.”

“Ouch!” Clarke sympathised, toying with Cassie’s small fingers in her hand. 

“We’re here,” they heard Lincoln say through the phone. 

“Okay, we’ve got to go. I’ll call you later,” Octavia promised before the line went dead. 

The sudden silence echoed through their living room, a stark contrast to the happy, cozy bubble they had occupied there all day. 

Clarke moved Cassie against her shoulder, rubbing her daughter’s back softly to burp her. She looked up and caught Bellamy’s eye. “I mean, you did say it was ‘Operation No Blakes in the ER’ day, and you’re still right. Because O’s not a Blake anymore.”

Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head at her logic. Because Clarke was right. Octavia and Lincoln were married a few months ago and Octavia had changed her name. 

Leaning her head against Bellamy’s shoulder, Clarke sighed. “I guess maybe our curse has been passed on.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “We’ll just have to wait until next year to make sure.” He turned his attention to Gus who was starting to wake up. Bellamy gently picked up his son and held Gus in his lap. 

“I don’t want to make light of it, but she did keep making jokes about it last year,” Bellamy finally mused, a touch of laughter in his tone. “Besides, she has Lincoln there to take care of her. And it’s not like she’s never dislocated her shoulder before. I’m surprised she didn’t just pop it back and be on her way.”

Bellamy kissed Clarke’s temple, and then held his hand out for Cassie, her tiny hand wrapping around her father’s large finger. “But I’m glad it’s not us again. I’m exactly where I want to be.” 

Clarke tilted her head up to him, and kissed Bellamy. She was exactly where she wanted to be too - safe, uninjured and holding her husband and babies close. 

And to be perfectly honest, she never wanted to see the inside of the hospital emergency room ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading & happy holidays! 🎄 🎅🏻 ☃️
> 
> as always, come say hi on [tumblr!](https://bookwormforalways.tumblr.com/post/637080376074027008/christmas-eve-will-find-us-a-bellarke-fic-by)


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